


The darkness brings dark thoughts

by olympia_m



Series: Between two places [19]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series, 闇の末裔 | Yami No Matsuei | Descendants of Darkness
Genre: M/M, a bit of angst, almost a plot what plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-24 09:04:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12009483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olympia_m/pseuds/olympia_m
Summary: The one where both Feilong and Oriya freak out, and try to deal with it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tiny, self-indulgent fic. Timewise, the series is still moving slowly forward....

Feilong rolled over, leaned on his shoulder and raised himself up a little. “Oriya?” he asked softly.

Oriya looked at him, putting the book down between them. “You’re awake,” he smiled. “Yes?”

“When… when I die, you won’t let me become like my father, will you?” 

Oriya’s eyes darkened. “Why ask this? Why now?” His tone was strange. 

“I just had a nightmare.” His father, staring at him, hands outstretched and about to close around Feilong’s neck. He willed himself awake to escape him.

“I’m sorry,” Oriya said earnestly. “It’s my fault.”

“Well? Can you… do something about it?” Feilong swallowed. He didn’t want to become like his father, trapped in this world, looking for something he could never have. He looked outside. It was still dark, and darkness brought dark thoughts, it seemed.

“I don’t know. Please, don’t talk of death.”

Feilong sat up. “It will happen eventually.” 

Oriya threw the book away, and grabbed Feilong by the arms. “Muraki talked of nothing but death. Don’t you start as well,” he said, voice breaking as he shook Feilong. Feilong allowed it for a moment, but as he was about to push Oriya away, Oriya collapsed against him. “Don’t you start,” he whispered, crying.

Feilong hugged him. “Alright, forget I asked,” he said, stroking Oriya’s back. 

Oriya pushed him back down on the bed. “Don’t,” he repeated, unbuttoning Feilong’s top. He stared at Feilong for a moment, and then bent down his head and kissed the older scar near his heart. He pressed his lips against it, licked it, and then sucked it furiously. 

Oriya moved over him and pushed his groin against Feilong’s. The motion made the cover slip and slide against his silken pyjamas, and they in turn slithered against him, teasing him. Feilong arched up, closing his eyes. 

Oriya rocked gently against him as he kissed each and every scar on Feilong’s chest. Carefully, deliberately, passionately, tracing each point that could have ended Feilong’s life with his lips and his tongue and his teeth as if he wanted to burn it away. 

Feilong needed more, more friction, more movement, perhaps a stroke or two, or more. When he tried to slip his hand between them, Oriya guided it softly, but firmly, away, and then held it down. He didn’t try anything after that. But how he wanted…

He kept his eyes shut too, for when he opened them at some point, Oriya met his gaze and his despair was naked in his eyes. A frightening thing to see. A terrible thing to cause. Feilong couldn’t look at him after that. But how he wanted…

Oriya suddenly pulled the covers down, and Feilong’s pyjamas with them. He nuzzled Feilong’s cock, and teased Feilong’s balls with his fingernails. The sensation was light, a delicate pleasure that could easily turn to pain. Before Feilong could beg for more, Oriya took him in his mouth, and started tracing his sensitive flesh with his fingers. 

Oriya was relentless, and Feilong had been so turned on for the longest time that he didn’t last long. He came shuddering, moaning, aching inside and finding little peace with his orgasm. “You want to fuck me?” he asked, lying boneless and still wanting more. 

In response he felt a wet finger tease him. He smiled. Oh, how he wanted… and how he would receive. Being gently and thoroughly stretched meant a slow and thorough fuck. When he reached for Oriya’s nape, Oriya let him. And then pulled him up, into his lap, and Feilong held on to Oriya’s back, hiding his face into the crook of Oriya’s neck, as he was slowly, carefully, inexorably entered. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered when Oriya was fully sheathed inside him. “No more talk of death. I promise.”

“No, you were right. I won’t let you linger in this dark world,” he whispered. “When…” his voice broke again. 

Feilong opened his eyes and shifted, looking at Oriya. “And I promise. No more talking of death. Unless it’s that of other people. I do have enemies, after all.”

Oriya stared at him. He smiled slowly. “I can live with that.”

“Good. I’m glad. Do you think you can move now?”

Oriya’s smile grew wider. “No. Not until you’re hard again.”

Feilong closed his eyes and let his head drop on Oriya’s shoulder. A slow and thorough fuck, indeed. A very slow one. He smiled. He could live with that.


	2. Chapter 2

“They’re diverting most planes to Osaka or other towns,” Asami told Akihito. “But that’s better than yesterday, when the airport was still closed.”

Akihito nodded. “We should go back. Tomorrow morning, perhaps?”

“Yes, that’s a good idea. Until then…” Asami sat by Akihito’s side. He trailed his fingers over his shoulder. 

“I feel too stressed, Asami. What will we find when we go home?”

“We’ll deal with that when we get there.” Asami leaned over and took Akihito’s earlobe between his lips. He sucked on it gently. “I know how to make you relax,” he whispered.

Akihito closed his eyes. Asami’s tongue seemed to burn a direct path from his ear to his cock. He fell back down on the bed. “I bet you do,” he smiled. 

Asami covered him with his body. “Of course I do.”

Akihito shivered. That voice. That tone. That mouth. That hand. He closed his eyes, hugging Asami. “Of course you do. What are you waiting for?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (as usual, one thinks the story is done, and then this happens....)

“I think I’ll fly off with Asami and Akihito,” Oriya told Feilong over breakfast.

“Really? You’re welcome to stay.”

“They are going to Osaka. It makes sense to join them.” He snorted. “Death makes people anxious to experience life. Bookings have increased by 200% after the earthquake, and people are paying dearly for my presence. I ought to go back.”

“I understand.” 

“Do you?”

He shrugged. “Well, I’d rather you stayed, but I’d rather you stayed every time you are here,” Feilong smiled. 

“I’d rather I stayed too,” Oriya said softly. He sighed. “To be honest, I’m not sure if I will go straight back home. Last time, I didn’t see Muraki’s body. I did nothing. This time, I ought to…”

“Last time?”

“I told you I thought him dead before. It turned out he was held hostage by his enemies and … if I had searched for him, perhaps I could have helped him. Instead, I did nothing.”

“So, now you want to…” 

“Have some closure. Know that he’s dead. Or not.”

Feilong smiled. “That I understand even more. Muraki is lucky to have you as a friend.”

“I did nothing last time. It’s my guilty conscience speaking now.” He sighed again. “I know I ought to go back home, but….”

“Want me to come with you?” He grinned. “I’m happy to distract you anyway I can.” Although he probably wouldn’t let Oriya take him for a couple of days; he felt kind of tender and sore after last night. 

“You’re not a distraction,” Oriya smiled warmly. “You’re life.”

Just like his customers wanting to experience life after surviving a catastrophic event, Oriya wanted to assure himself he was alive. With him. Feilong smiled. He felt the same way. After a kill, or after recovering from an injury, he too needed sex. It was life-affirming. “Well, want me to come with you?”

“Only if you want to.”

Feilong looked outside for a moment. He wanted to.

“But I won’t be pleasant company,” Oriya warned him. 

Feilong smiled. “Then I’ll definitely fly to Japan with you.” Akihito had told him once that no one should be alone at weddings, but the same went for funerals. Oriya, like a child, couldn’t deal with the concept of people dying. Feilong couldn’t leave him to face that alone. 

Oriya picked up the breakfast tray from Feilong’s lap, put it on the nightstand, and then moved over him. Kissing him. Gently, oh so gently. Again, and again. And touching his hair, softly, always softly. And tracing his scar near his heart, carefully, ever so carefully. 

Feilong felt himself harden. Who was he kidding? He was going because of the sex. He was addicted to it. He pulled Oriya down, making him settle on his lap, making him feel his arousal. A moment later he had freed both their cocks and started stroking them. Slowly, leisurely, to match the rhythm of Oriya’s kisses. 

No need to hurry this morning.


End file.
